Again in Tuesday, the women of Alba Flamenco allowed me to sit in on their castanet work to sketch as they practiced. Sitting in the darkened studio, watching figures in motion echoed in shadowy mirrors, a-swim in the currents of rhythm and cante… I can tell you, it’s hard to keep drawing, when I’d far rather be sipping scalding red wine and clapping along. But for an artist, this is one sweet gig.
I’m out of practice at rapid figure sketching, but I’m getting back to it. I make that disclaimer to compensate for any criticism my work may merit. We’re all sensitive, after all, about being less than we dream or aspire to be. What I witness is exceptional, but my drawings are (for now) sadly static and inadequate. I want more from myself, especially when the dancers stop by at the end of rehearsal to judge what I have done.
It’s curious how insecure we all are. Each of these women, when looking at these drawings, recognized and enjoyed the images of her friends, but confronted with themselves, showed resistance. I found them all beautiful, as I do probably everyone I draw, and when that is not my initial reaction, I find that the process of studying a face or a form warms me to them. It’s one of the reasons I draw self-portraits. When I’m too heavy with self-loathing I know it’s time for the mirror. Yes, my face is aging and was never, even young, classically beautiful, but it’s a good face anyway, busily telling its story to anyone pausing to see it. I wish more people would take the time to appreciate their own story and the map of it they carry every day.
The dancers are beautiful and I’ve tried to capture it. I hope you will take the time to find the merits it may have. (Thanks again to Barb, Susan and Michelle!)